Too Smart For Marriage

by Cathie Linz

  “Kitchen?” he repeated. “What do you need a kitchen for?”

  “To make the ice cream.”

  “Make it? I thought you were going to buy it.”

  Claire stared at him aghast. “Bite your tongue. Like I told you, my ice cream will be homemade. I’m even working on some special recipes. I found a soda-fountain book in with your grandfather’s things. It has some old classic recipes.”

  “The Tune-In Sundae was one of my favorites,” Anastasia said. “You decorate a block of ice cream to make it look like an old-fashioned radio. The Third Degree was also intriguing, but that was more of an ice-cream soda.”

  David wanted to give her the third degree and demand to know how she’d gotten herself so entwined in his grandmother’s life while his back was turned. Anastasia had even apparently read his grandfather’s soda-fountain book. David hadn’t known his grandfather owned such a thing. His grandfather had died when David graduated from college, and while he knew his grandmother missed her husband terribly, David had never suspected that her loneliness would drive her to such foolishness.

  Running one hand through his hair in frustration, he frowned at his grandmother. “Why didn’t you talk to me before doing this?” he asked her once more.

  Claire patted his hand. “I told you, dear…I didn’t want to bother you when you were so busy. How was that conference you attended, by the way?”

  “The conference was fine and I’m not too busy for something major like this.”

  “David is an arson investigator,” Claire proudly informed Anastasia.

  “So you’ve said.” Unlike David, she remembered what Claire told her and the look she shot him informed him as much.

  David ignored her. He wasn’t about to get sidetracked. “Purchasing real estate is a big responsibility, let alone trying to start up a new business. Do you know how many businesses fail their first year? A majority of them,” he answered for her. “And why an ice-cream parlor of all things?”

  “Because your grandfather and I met in an icecream parlor where he was working as a soda jerk before the war. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him.” Her expression softened as her fingers caressed the smooth marble of the countertop. “He had such style and grace as he expertly tossed a scoop of ice cream over one shoulder to have it land in a metal banana-split dish. He had the best moves.”

  Looking over his shoulder, David noticed Anastasia’s moves. Her sunshine-yellow dress clung to her hips with every step she took. She walked with a smooth sexy sway as she joined them.

  “Everyone is entitled to a dream,” Anastasia said, challenging him.

  “Is that so?” David retorted as if speaking to a half-wit. “And what about responsible behavior and financial security?”

  “Your grandmother put together a thorough financial plan to decide how much capital she’d need for her business. She’s a smart woman. Can’t you see she’s doing something that makes her happy? Something that has deep personal meaning to her, bringing back memories of those early days with your grandfather. This is Claire’s dream.”

  David was stung by Anastasia’s words and the implication that she knew his grandmother better than he did. “And what kind of world would it be if we all went chasing after wild dreams?”

  “A better one,” Anastasia said tartly. “Think about that while I go upstairs and change into some work clothes.”

  “WELL, THAT WENT WELL,” Hattie said as she hovered midair, her gossamer wings fluttering a mile a minute to keep her aloft. There wasn’t a place in the storefront clean enough for her to perch on. With her free hand, she attempted to keep her electric-blue pillbox hat in place. It matched her dress right down to the pearl accents. Hattie prided herself on her ability to accessorize.

  “Went well?” Muriel repeated from the dusty marble countertop below. “How can you say that?” She shoved her fingers through her spiky white hair, which made her look like a disgruntled woodpecker, before stuffing her hands in the deep pockets of her khaki vest. “Just because no blood was spilled?”

  “You’re such a fussbudget,” Hattie retorted.

  “Right,” Muriel scoffed. “This coming from the flibbertigibbet in the family.”

  “Girls.” Betty fixed them both with a reprimanding look as she began pacing along the countertop. She was wearing her I Yell Because I Care T-shirt, which meant she wasn’t in the mood to take any guff from anyone. “As I see it, we have a slight problem in that David thinks Anastasia is a con artist out to get his grandmother’s money, not to mention that he doesn’t believe in having dreams.”

  “I doubt he believes in fairy godmothers, either,” Muriel interjected.

  “It’s early going yet,” Betty said. “We just dropped by to check on the initial meeting and to make sure that Claire played her role as matchmaker. We don’t have much experience putting ideas into the heads of strangers, but I must say that I’m pleased with the results.”

  “Are you sure that enlisting Claire’s help is a good idea?” Hattie asked uncertainly.

  Betty shrugged. “What can it hurt?”

  “Only the entire balance of the universe, that’s all,” Muriel glumly replied.

  “YOU MUST BE BRAVE,” Anastasia said. “You must gather your courage. Remember your heritage.”

  The blue-eyed Himalayan cat she was speaking to just blinked at her from beneath the armchair it was cowering under.

  “That mouse won’t hurt you. I put a fresh piece of cheese in the humane live trap this morning. I’m sure he’ll take the bait any moment and stop tormenting you. He’s just running around to bother you. You really shouldn’t let him get to you this way, Xena.”

  Anastasia had hoped that giving the feline a warrior princess’s name would help her assertiveness problem, but so far no luck. She’d gotten the cat by default. Trevor, one of her former boyfriends, had given her the animal—dumped it on her, actually, saying he had no time for neurotic felines. Two days later, Anastasia had dumped Trevor but kept the cat.

  “That mouse has no right bullying you,” she said. “You need to assert yourself. Don’t let him browbeat you, chase you under the chair this way.”

  The same could be true of David, she thought. He had no right trying to bully Claire in an attempt to send her scurrying under the proverbial chair.

  Anastasia’s view of him as a workaholic hardnose had been right on the money. The guy just didn’t get it. He wouldn’t know a dream from a hole in the ground.

  Even so, she wasn’t about to stand by and let him bully his grandmother into giving up her dream. It was his own fault that he hadn’t been involved in Claire’s decision. She’d no doubt guessed that he’d try to squash her dream instead of nurturing it the way Anastasia had. He was clearly a doubting Thomas.

  She’d seen the suspicion in his eyes, incredible though they might be. Such an intense blue. It was a shame they were wasted on such an obstinate jerk.

  So why did she feel this little curl of interest unfurling within her?

  “Maybe that’s lust, not interest,” she muttered as she kicked off her shoes on her way to the bedroom. Once there, she tugged her dress over her head and replaced it with an orange sleeveless blouse and a pair of painter’s white overalls. She liked her clothes colorful. She liked her surroundings the same way, and the brilliant blue and bright yellow color scheme in her bedroom certainly qualified.

  There wasn’t one item in the room that was neutral or white. The walls were yellow, while the handwoven Indian rug on the floor was blue with golden stars and moons. Additional splashes of color were evident in the Tiffany-style lamp on the dresser and the framed Van Gogh poster on the wall.

  As she tugged the shoulder straps of her overalls into place, she replayed David’s questions in her mind. He clearly didn’t like her and he was suspicious. His type usually was. They didn’t believe in random acts of kindness. If the car ahead of him on the Northwest Tollway paid his toll for him, he’d probably have it followed and invest
igated to find out what ulterior motive the driver had.

  What had made him that way? Working as an arson investigator? Or losing his parents when he was young?

  Why did she care?

  It was those damn intense blue eyes. If only they’d been blah brown. And if only they hadn’t been teamed with those Black Irish good looks. She’d always been a sucker for them, ever since “Remington Steele” had first aired on TV.

  The guys in her life had usually shared Remington’s devil-may-care attitude. They’d had big dreams, whether they’d come true or not. And okay, so they’d been somewhat immature and irresponsible, but that had been part of their charm. In the beginning.

  Growing up with two bossy brothers, as the only girl in a set of triplets, had ensured that she hadn’t been attracted to the controlling intense type. David’s type.

  Maybe he wouldn’t be around much. Maybe Claire was talking some sense into him at this very moment.

  “I’M SO GLAD you agreed to help me fix up the place.” Claire glowed at David. “I don’t know anything about load-bearing walls and not being able to tear those down. You’re so clever, dear. But then, you did work on construction sites all those summers while you were in college.”

  “That was years ago,” David reminded her.

  “I’m sure it’s like riding a bike, something you don’t forget. And you are on leave now, right, dear? Six weeks, I believe you said.”

  David nodded.

  “Then it would be perfect timing. We could get a lot accomplished in the next six weeks.”

  Not the least of which would be David’s finding out exactly what Anastasia was up to.

  “And what about your building going condo?” Claire added. “Didn’t you tell me that you’d have to move soon? Have you had time to find another place yet? Because if not, the apartment on the third floor is vacant and you’d be welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

  “I might take you up on that.”

  “Oh, I hope you do. It would be so nice to have you here. And I wouldn’t worry about leaving the place at night, not with you to look after things.”

  “Yeah, defending the place with a can of shaving cream isn’t much of a crime deterrent,” David noted mockingly.

  “Oh, you mustn’t mind Anastasia. She was just trying to help me.”

  “I know what she was trying to do,” David said. And he knew what he had to do to combat it. Move in and look out for his grandmother’s interests.

  “IS HE GONE?” Anastasia asked as she entered the storefront to find Claire alone.

  “For now. I’m sorry David called you mousy,” Claire apologized.

  “Hey, I’ve been called much worse. He’ll soon discover how wrong he was. About a lot of things.”

  Claire nodded. “I love him dearly, but he does tend to be a mite…”

  “Bossy, judgmental, impossible?”

  “I was going to say serious.”

  “That would have been my next guess.” Anastasia grinned.

  “He just needs someone to teach him how to loosen up,” Claire said wistfully. “Someone who could help him understand the appeal of having dreams. And I know just the woman for the job.”

  There was no mistaking Claire’s hopeful look in Anastasia’s direction.

  “Who, me? Oh no you don’t” Anastasia shook her head so vehemently her ponytail slapped against her cheeks.

  “You’d be the perfect person to teach David how to dream…and how to have some fun in life. I’ve never met anyone so full of a zest for life as you.”

  “I’ve got that zest because I don’t hang around with serious guys like David who suck all the fun out of life.” Seeing Claire’s crestfallen expression made her feel badly. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your grandson and you love him, but…”

  “You’re probably right, dear.” Now it was Anastasia’s turn to be on the receiving end of Claire’s hand-patting. “I doubt that even you could manage to turn David around. You’re good, but not that good.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Anastasia didn’t take kindly to hearing that. “I most certainly am that good. I could make him see the light—”

  “And that would make him so much better to have around,” Claire interjected. “Do you really want him reprimanding us for the next few weeks while he’s helping us fix up the place, or would you rather bring him around to our way of thinking?”

  “Wait a second. What’s this about him helping us?”

  “David has agreed to do some of the renovation work to help me save on expenses. And he’s moving into the vacant apartment on the third floor.”

  “So he’s going to be underfoot for a while.” Anastasia paused to review her options. “In that case, I suppose it would be in our best interest to convert him to our way of thinking. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have experience with his type. My brother Jason was bossy and overbearing. I’ve knocked most of it out of him, though. Figuratively speaking, of course. A majority of the time it did not require bodily blows. But your grandson is much more…” How could she put it? Earthy? Her brother was good-looking. Heck, he’d been named Chicago’s Sexiest Bachelor earlier in the year. But David was more than just handsome. He exuded raw masculinity the way an oven generated heat.

  “He’s much more what, dear?”

  “Much more of a challenge,” she substituted. “Not that I’m not intrigued by a challenge, because I am.” She imagined herself making the bossy David see the light, showing him the errors of his ways.

  Claire had a point It would make the next few weeks much easier if he was with them instead of against them. And the fastest way to do that was to show him the value of having dreams and having fun.

  “Tell me,” Anastasia asked. “What does David do to have fun?”

  “He works.”

  She sighed.. “That’s what I was afraid of. Okay, Claire, you’ve got a deal. I’ll try and whip David into shape for you.”

  CRASH! The noise woke Anastasia from a sound sleep. Sitting upright in bed, she turned on the lamp and shot a bleary-eyed gaze at her Wallace and Gromit alarm clock. The British cartoon characters usually made her smile, but all she noted now was that it was almost two in the morning. The crashing sound seemed to have come from directly outside her front door.

  Deciding it was better to fear the noise you knew rather than the one you didn’t, she slid out of bed and tiptoed from her bedroom across the living room to her front door, turning on another light as she went along. She put her nose to her door, and cautiously peered out the peephole.

  All she could see was a denim-clad rear end—a masculine rear end, most definitely. And a rather nicely formed one at that.

  Then she saw the rest of the man as he straightened and shot a wary look over his shoulder at her door. It was David.

  For two days she’d been waiting for him to finish packing up his stuff and finally show his face, and his rather nice bottom, here. She’d begun to wonder if he hadn’t decided to back out of his agreement with his grandmother.

  But now he’d shown up with a bang, or rather a crash and several inventive curses.

  Making the most of the moment, she opened her door and, putting one hand on her hip à la Mae West, drawled, “Welcome to the neighborhood, big boy.”

  3

  SWEARING, David dropped the box of athletic equipment he’d just picked up, narrowly missing hitting his foot. Feeling like a klutz, he glared at Anastasia and growled, “What are you, the welcoming committee?”

  “You could say that” She showed no sign of remorse at having startled him. “So what made you decide to sneak into the building in the middle of the night?”

  “I’m not sneaking.”

  “Really?” One of her delicately curved eyebrows lifted in patent disbelief. “In that case, I stand corrected.”

  Actually, she was standing there in a modest white nightie that covered her from neck to ankle. But the light behind her showed off the outline of her figure through the t
hin cotton rather nicely. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, David paused to enjoy the view.

  She had the kind of lush body made for a lingerie catalog. It seemed a crime to cover it up the way she did. Her long hair was tousled around her shoulders as if she’d just gotten up from a warm bed. She was an unusual mixture of cool class and brash attitude.

  “You do realize what time it is, don’t you?” Her voice was husky and sleepy, a sexy combination. A moment later she shifted, moving out of the revealing pool of light as she took a step closer to him to peer into the open box at his feet.

  “Dumbbells,” she murmured. “How…appropriate.”

  He frowned. “What’s that crack supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. How much longer do you think you’ll be making a racket in the hallway? I’m just wondering because I do have to get up at seven.”

  David was already up and he wasn’t pleased with his body’s traitorous reaction. He was here to keep an eye on Anastasia to protect his grandmother, not to ogle her like a teenager. Not that she hadn’t done a bit of ogling herself. Those sly golden eyes of hers had slid over him like warm honey.

  “I’m almost done here,” he said, his voice raspy as he bent to pick up the box he’d dropped earlier.

  “That’s a relief. Well, have fun.” With a yawn and a wave, she closed her door but paused long enough to add an irreverent grin. “You need any help, just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, David? Just put your lips together and blow.”

  As he watched the sexy sway of her hips as she sashayed back into her apartment, his mouth went dry, making it damn hard to whistle. Looking on the bright side, at least he wasn’t drooling.

  AT WORK the next day, Anastasia was prevented from thinking about David by the sheer number of things she had to get done. A group of kids from a local daycare center stopped by for a tour of the library, and then she was scheduled to work the reference desk for three hours, after which she had a staff meeting to attend.